My little brother invited the whole family to his lavish wedding, except me. Afterwards, he texted me: “Come if you want. We’ll reserve a record for you.” I never answered. That evening, an envelope was placed on the door.
I pulled into my sister’s driveway on a cool late September afternoon, the kind where the air feels still and expectant, like it is holding its breath for whatever comes next. I had driven over straight from work in downtown Milwaukee, still in my blazer, still with my laptop bag in the back seat, telling…
